The Necklace of DuChelle

Whosoever puts the Necklace of Duchelle upon the throat of another will have mastery over the wearer, for if the wearer betrays him, the necklace will strangle her dead. Leonce sees this as the perfect solution for keeping his lovely, if faithless, fiancee Eleonore in line. But Eleonore has a trick of her own up her sleeve.

“We are alone now, my dear Leonce.”

In the garden Eleonore reclines on the step of the marble fountain. A lazy hand skims the surface of the water, like a cat batting at a goldfish. But her eyes are on me. It is as though she thinks I am the fish or the mouse or the bird--or whatever small creature she wishes to toy with. But I am not like her other admirers. I am weak in only one regard: that I am passionately in love with her.

“I brought something for you, my darling Eleonore.”

I place a golden box on her lap. To her credit, her eyes do not flit away but continue to linger on my face. They twinkle, blue as violets. Sometimes I fancy Eleonore loves me, though it cannot be the constant ache I feel for her. She is the other half of my soul, and I want to be forever near her. I want her to be mine alone.

“I have for you bridal present,” I say. “A final gift before our wedding.”

“Whatever can it be?”

She lifts the lid. She smiles.

Rows of diamonds drip from a chain, glittering in the afternoon sunlight. The necklace is extravagant. Desire glistens in Eleonore’s eyes. She touches the center jewel.

“How beautiful.”

“It cannot outshine you,” I whisper. “Permit me to put it on.”

She lifts up her black curls, leaving her neck bare. I pluck the necklace from the box, trying to hide the tremble of my hands. I am close now, so close to that slender throat. My fingers graze the surface of her skin. The necklace loops, the ends meet. My heart races as I snap the clasp shut. There, it is done.

My Eleonore belongs to me.

She admires her reflection in the water. “Beautiful,” she repeats.

“It is called the Necklace of DuChelle.”

She does not gasp, nor bring a hand to her heart. The blood does not leave her cheek. In fact, she does not move at all. She must not know then that the Necklace of DuChelle is an enchanted object, which binds to the wearer’s neck and cannot be removed. Whosoever put the necklace on shall be the master, and if the wearer betrays the master, the necklace will tighten and she shall be dead in a minute.

I love Eleonore with all my heart. I cannot tolerate the thought of another man stroking her face, stealing kisses from her lips, carrying her off to bed. Yet I know too the kind of woman she is. She will fall to temptation without some object to remind her.

Now she turns to me.

“Such a gift deserves another.”

She loops her arms around my neck and kisses me. I kiss her back, fiercely, freely. I am secure. Suddenly she pulls back. A low laugh bubbles in her throat. Not a laugh I enjoy—it is the sound of her carrying out a triumphant prank.

“So you claim this is the Necklace of DuChelle?”

She reaches up behind her neck.

“My handsome love, how little do you know.”

The necklace drops clattering on the marble step. I utter a cry. Eleonore sweeps it into the water like a withered flower. She stands straight now, facing me, her slim shoulders erect, her chin lifted high.

“The Necklace of Duchelle has neither diamonds nor jewels. It is a simple gold chain-like the one you now wear.”

My hand leaps for my throat. Yes, there is a chain. She must have slipped it on my neck while we kissed. I grasp the necklace and feel that it is as light as a piece of thread. I yank. I am not a man of little strength but pull as I may, the chain does not rip away. It wraps my neck like a serpent.

“How well it suits you, my chained tiger, my pet.” Eleonore runs her finger through my hair. “You will be loyal to me, and I will tolerate no dalliances from you, no secret mistresses, no lovers. Moreover, you shall leave my affairs alone. If not, then sad to say, you shall not long survive our marriage.”

I stare at her. Even now, she is beautiful. Even now, I desire her. This betrayal only makes me love her more, yet suspicion spreads thick over my heart.

“How did you obtain the Necklace of DuChelle?” I ask.

“Through your own courier, my darling.”

“A lover of yours?” My heart pulses.

She laughs. “Not as handsome as you, I’m afraid. But so eager to please.”

My body flashes red. I will not have it. She may laugh at me all she wishes, but she will not laugh with them, she will not confide to other lovers and stare at them with naked desire, while I sit idly by, meek and tame. Never! For she is my soul split in half, and I will have her to myself, in this world or the next.

Eleonore’s laughter stops when my hands wrap around her neck.

“Leonce--?” she gasps.

The necklace pinches my throat even as I squeeze hers.

“Let us see, my love, who dies first.”

I got the idea for a strangling necklace in June of 2012, as part of a conscious effort to gather ideas. (Seven days later, I came up with the idea for Three Floating Coffins, so my efforts to sit down and write every single idea that popped in my head really paid off.) It was the first story I submitted for publication and the first one I published on a professional platform.

The Necklace of Duchelle was first published on Ether in 2014. Ether or Ether Books is a free app available on the App Store (Apple) or Google Play (Android). You must have a smart phone or tablet to download the app. After you download the app, you must create an account and sign in. Most stories, including mine, are free to download.